Fables of La Fontaine — Fables CLXXIII and CLXXIV

THE FRAUDULENT TRUSTEE.

Animals I've sung in verse, Memory's daughters aiding;

Perhaps I should have done far worse, In other heroes trading.

In my book the dogs sit down With wolves in conversation;

And beasts dressed up in vest and gown, All sorts, of every nation, Reflect each kind of folly duly, My verse interprets them so truly.

Fools there are, and wise there are, But my heroes I can't flatter;

For 'tis certain that, by far, The former ones exceed the latter.

Swindlers I have painted often-- Brutes whom kindness cannot soften;

Tyrants, flatterers, and the crew Who take your gifts, then bite at you.

In my pages you'll find many Examples of the utter zany;

But chiefly have I had to do With those who say what is not true.

The ancient wise man cried aloud, "All men are liars!"

Had he stated This fact but of the wretched crowd, E'en then I should have hesitated;

But that we mortals, great and small, Both good and bad, are liars all, I should deny at once, of course, Did I not know the maxim's source.

But he who lies as Æsop lies, Or, to go a little higher, As old Homer, is no liar;

For the charming dreams we prize, With which they have enriched the world, Are brightest truths in fiction furled.

The works of such should live for ever;

And he who lies like them lies never.

But he who should attempt to lie As a Fraudulent Trustee did, A liar is, most certainly, And should suffer for't as he did.

The story tells us That, proposing To journey into foreign lands, A merchant, in the Persian trade-- In friends all confidence reposing-- Agreement with a neighbour made, To leave some iron in his hands.

"My metal?"

said he, coming back.

"Your metal!

'tis all gone, alack!

A rat has eaten up the lot!

I've scolded all my slaves, God wot!

But, in spite of all control, A granary floor <i>will</i> have a hole."

The merchant opened well his eyes, And never hinted aught of lies;

But soon he stole his neighbour's child, And then he asked the rogue to dine.

To which the other answered, wild With anguish, "Sir, I must decline-- I loved a child--I have but one-- <i>I have!

</i> What say I?

I have none, For he is stolen!"

Then replies The Merchant, "With my own two eyes, On yester eve, at close of day, I saw your offspring borne away, With many a struggle, many a howl, To an old ruin, by an owl."

"An owl," the father cried, "convey To such a height so big a prey!

My son could kill a dozen such;

For my belief this is too much!"

"I do not that deny," replies His friend, "yet saw it with these eyes;

And wherefore should you think it strange That in a land where rats can steal A ton of iron from a grange, An owl should seize a boy of ten, Fly with him to his lofty den.

And of him make a hearty meal?"

The Fraudulent Trustee perceived Which way the artful story tended, Gave back the goods, the man received His child, and so the matter ended.

Between two Travellers, on their road, Dispute arose, in a strange mode:-- The one a story-teller, such As oft are met with, who can't touch On any great or trivial topic, Without the use--that is, abuse-- Of lenses microscopic.

With them all objects are gigantic, Small ponds grow huge as the Atlantic.

The present instance said he "knew A cabbage once that grew so tall, It topped a lofty garden wall."

"I'm sure," replied his friend, "'tis true, For I myself a pot have met, Within which no large church could get."

The first one such a pot derided: "Softly, my friend," rejoined the second;

"You quite without your host have reckoned;

To boil your cabbage was my pot provided!"

The man of the monstrous pot was a wag, The man of the iron adroit;

And if ever you meet with a man who'll brag, Never attempt to stint him a doit, But match his long bow with your strong bow.

FABLE CLXXIV.

JUPITER AND THE TRAVELLER.

The gods our perils would make wealthy, If we our vows remembered, when once made.

But, dangers passed, and we, all safe and healthy, Forget the promises on altars laid;

We only think of what we owe to men.

Jove, says the atheist, is a creditor Who never sends out bailiffs; if so, then What is the thunder meant as warning for?

A Passenger, in tempest tossed and rolled, To Jupiter a hundred oxen offered.

He hadn't one; had he been only bold, A hundred elephants he would have proffered: They'd cost him not a single farthing more.

Suddenly mounted unto great Jove's nose The scent of beef bones burnt upon the shore.

"Accept my promised vow," the rascal crows;

"'Tis ox you smell: the smoke is all for thee: Now we are quits."

Jove smiled a bitter smile;

But, some days after, sent a dream, to be The recompense of that man's wicked guile.

The dream informed him where a treasure lay: The man ran to it, like a moth to flame.

Some robbers seized him.

Having nought to pay, He promised them at once, if they but came Where he'd a hundred talents of good gold.

The place, far off, pleased not the wary thieves;

And one man said, "My comrade, I am told You mock us; and he dies, whoe'er deceives.

Go and take Pluto, for an offering, Your hundred talents: they will please the king."

[Illustration: JUPITER AND THE TRAVELLER.

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